


Fallen

by HawkMoth



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: (Also references 7x1 and 7x2), Coda, Episode: s07e03 A Town Called Mercy, Gen, Written in September 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:55:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HawkMoth/pseuds/HawkMoth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Counting the cost.</p>
<p>
  <i>But really, he knew just too much about history, no matter how often he got some things wrong.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen

******

It was getting a little too easy to make inconsequential small talk on the journeys back to Leadworth, but it was what they did, the Doctor and the Ponds. Everything important that had to be said had been said in Mercy, and none of them liked to repeat the things said in similar recent circumstances. 

(Amy made tea, and Rory very carefully had his far away from the console.)

And none of them actually said "Good-bye" anymore; partings had become a vague jumble of thanks, take care, and see you. Nothing that sounded too final.

***

Later, of all the things he was trying not to think about, the Doctor especially tried not to dwell on the irony of what their intended destination had been.

Especially given the way Amy had tossed it off so blithely in the face of Isaac's calm acceptance of their presence and oddness, before they had all the facts of the situation they had landed in.

(But really, he knew just too much about history, no matter how often he got some things wrong. The American Old West, a town under siege, show down at high noon? Had there been any real hope that everybody would live?)

The Doctor could more easily accept what Isaac had done, because they had learned very quickly what sort of man he was. But Jex's ultimate choice had been a harder blow, because it was impossible to know if it had been truly motivated by his own need to atone, or by what he had perceived was expected of him, even though he had been given another way out.

Two dead, so that a town might live. Two dead, so that half a life could be made whole. 

(No such restoration for Oswin. No redemption for the likes of Solomon.) 

He might not have souls to carry up a mountain, but he had far too many memories and the weight of them was all too real. The number of survivors would never balance against the dead. 

He had tried to remove himself from Time, erase his name from History, but no matter how far or fast he ran, they were still fixed firmly within him. 

Years. Centuries. Millennia. They would never let him go.

******

**Author's Note:**

> The final (for now?) story in my New Who collection. Thanks for reading and for comments!


End file.
